The Congregation of the Illustrious Midges
by Amberwind2001
Summary: A collection of drabbles, short fics, and miscellany silliness.
1. Flip Side

Written in 2007, in regards to *that* casting spoiler (which had me squeeing in my tea at the time). I saw so many little ficlets popping up with the Doctor's reaction to Rose's return. I started thinking about Rose's response, coupled with the publicity photo that was on the official site (in which Rose looked distinctly *not happy*), and this little thing popped into my head. I was giggling so hard, I had to share.

A drabble and a quarter. Uncle Rusty and Auntie Beeb own it.

**Flip Side**

The first few moments were just as imagined; the shock, the joy, the tearful hug with murmured emotional nonsense, the ruffling of hair and rubbing of noses. Several kisses, both chaste and very much not, earning a wolf-whistle from Jack, muttered grumbling from Martha, and a smug smile from Donna.

As they separated, though, reality veered sharply to the left from the joyful reunion the Doctor had imagined, and the TARDIS echoed with the sound of palm meeting cheek.

"What?!," The Doctor sputtered, cradling the hot flesh of his face where Rose's hand had just connected.

"Doctor, before you decide to say 'impossible' again," Rose growled, her eyes narrowing with both threat and promise, "I suggest you seriously rethink your definition of the word!"


	2. Without Substance

Doomsday drabble, originally written in 2007 to get my feet wet again after neglecting writing for a month in order to prepare my calendar for sale in my prints shop.

For the 100 Themes Challenge, prompt #45 - Illusion.

~.o0o.~

**Without Substance**

Neither of them are standing where they appear to be; she on the TARDIS deck, he on a lonely beach. For all the build-up, it's the hollowest two minutes of their time together, the death rattle of something once epic, beauteous and strange.

They each tell their little lies, to comfort and console, and pray it's enough. Because they know, they both do. Neither of them needs to say it, but they do need to hear it, and there isn't enough time for both of them to spill out the words.

_Can I..?_

I'm still just an image. No touch.


	3. Contravention

Drabble written for the 100 Themes Challenge, Prompt #50 - Breaking the Rules. Written with 9th Doctor in mind, but could be Ten if you squint.

~.o0o.~

**Contravention**

His people had always placed great stock in rules and regulations. As life wore on he was finding that he was no exception, renegade status aside. Many of their rules were even the same, but followed for vastly different reasons.

Do not consort with lower species.

Do not get attached.

And especially, do not fall in _love_.

He watched her, glowing pink and yellow, and so incredibly vibrant, beautiful and alive in spite of everything. In spite of a harpy mother and a clingy boyfriend. In spite of Autons, bitchy trampolines, Gelth, and Slitheen. In spite of him.

_Sod the rules._


	4. Actions and Words

Quickie drabble, 100 words exactly, in response to the 100 Themes Challenge, prompt #1 - Introduction.

~.o0o.~

**Actions and Words**

The first time Rose met the Doctor, he was a man of action. He took her hand, ordering her to run, and that was all he had to do to earn her trust, and her love.

_"Nice to meet you Rose. Run for your life!"_

The second time she met the Doctor, he emerged from a ball of flame, and was a man of words. He prattled on about Barcelona and new teeth, and she couldn't be sure who he was. Then, he took her hand.

_"I said one word to you. Just one. 'Run!'"_

He had her from, "Hello."


	5. Inhale

For the 100 Themes Challenge, prompt #10 - Breathe Again. I do realize that it's a bit cliche, but beggars can't be choosers.

Quote in italics is Susan Cheever.

**Inhale**

There is nothing here, not really. The pain just before was fleeting, an ephemeral sensation of burning, and now consciousness and being are subjective in the darkness.

He doesn't know if this is everything that comes after-never having stayed down for good, it's difficult to place whether this is the end stop or the waiting room. But whatever it is, there sure as hell isn't any light. No tunnel, no loved ones.

_Death is terrifying because it is so ordinary. It happens all the time._

Light is the gold on the way back up, and as his eyes snap open, Jack Harkness inhales once more.


End file.
